


A Lift to Remember

by flusteredkeith



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, in which Allura picks up a drunk Lance on her way home from a party, welcome back to school quarter kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 11:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12189408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flusteredkeith/pseuds/flusteredkeith
Summary: As the designated driver, being ditched by your friends is never fun.Some people, however, make the ride worthwhile.





	A Lift to Remember

**Author's Note:**

  * For [breeeliss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/breeeliss/gifts).



> Here’s my first Allurance fic ever! Very loosely inspired by true events.
> 
> Also, this fic is dedicated to [breeeliss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/breeeliss/pseuds/breeeliss) who not only had her birthday this past weekend, but also helped inspire me into this ship in the first place. ;)
> 
> Enjoy!~

_[11:19pm]: where are you?_

 

Allura turns her phone over and over in her hands after sending the last text, waiting to feel a responding buzz — not too unlike the one she wishes she could get from alcohol right now.

 

_[11:30pm]: it’s been thirty minutes since you disappeared. where’d you go?_

 

The air is sticky with sweat. She’s just shoved away an extremely drunk fourth year from trying to kiss her and now sulks alone on a couch, pressed tightly into the corner of the armrest courtesy of the two girls making out next to her. The discomfort of the last two minutes leaves her checking her phone every five seconds for something, anything, anything to come save her from this fresh piece of hell.

 

_[11:34pm]: I think Nyma has probably ditched us already. are you ready to go home?_

_[11:36pm]: Shiro, are you okay?_

_[11:36pm]: if you don’t answer me I’m going to assume the worst and call the police._

_[11:38pm]: … or did Keith show up?_

_[11:38pm]: if he did, I’m happy for you, but can you at least text me back?!_

 

Allura stares off ahead, her gaze unfocused, fingers wringing the sleeves of her sweater. Waiting.

 

_[11:42pm]: ugh, seriously, answer me!_

 

She should’ve known this would happen.

Correction: she _knew_ this would happen. The signs were all there; she’s seen enough patterns of human nature to predict how all roads would lead here and yet, she had still gone along with it anyways.

She could’ve said no. If Allura had just lied and said she’d rather _not_ have come to the party, she might’ve been fine. But Nyma and Shiro had insisted. _“It’s the start of a new year,”_ they had said. _“Everyone is gonna be there!”_ they had said. They knew all too well how much Allura hated missing out.

She ought to mask her disappointment better.

Of course, if Allura had also said no to Coran at the end of last school year when he begged her to live off-campus with him and save money, perhaps she’d be having a lot more fun right now. She’d be missing out on a lot less, for one. But she knew deep down that her dear uncle’s request was never about the money. Ever since both her parents passed away, Coran’s been more keen on keeping what’s left of their family closer together.

And so she moved back. Not that she had much to complain about on most days. As much as she wanted to room with her friend Pidge and stay closer to campus, Allura also wanted to prioritize her duty to Coran. However, being the only person in a friend group who had a car often meant that the job of Designated Driver fell upon her.

Which meant that she had to be responsible. Which meant that right now, in this moment, she is far too sober to be here.

Nyma, Allura knows, has proven time and time again to be unreliable. So when she disappears shortly after some frat boy named Rolo sweeps her off her feet, Allura knows it’s a lost cause. Shiro, on the other hand — well. She had expected better.

Allura lets out a sigh and pulls up her lock screen to send another text.

 

_[11:50pm]: Shiro, it’s almost midnight. for the love of God at least respond so I know what your plans are._

_[11:50pm]: I DROVE FOR YOU DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE ME HANGING!!_

_[11:51pm]: you had better be with Keith or may God have mercy on your soul because that is the ONLY acceptable excuse for abandoning me like this_

_[11:51pm]: without saying a word I might add_

_[11:52pm]: unless… something terrible happened? are you okay?_

_[11:53pm]: … no, you’re much more sensible than that. still doesn’t explain why you’re ignoring my texts though!_

_[11:56pm]: ANSWER ME._

_[11:56pm]: THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING._

 

Keeping her thumb on the screen, Allura scrolls up in the text box to review her last few messages. Shiro always has read receipts on so the fact that the bottom of the last bubble still reads “Delivered” does not bode well.

He’s definitely not checking his phone.

With an exasperated huff, Allura blows her hair out of her face and looks up. Once her gaze settles on some random point ahead, she realizes that the drunk fourth year from earlier has been eyeing her from the kitchen. When he catches her looking, he flashes her a sleazy smile and a wink.

 _Ugh._ That’s the final straw. Ride or no ride, Shiro is going to have to find his own way home. She definitely cannot stay here any longer.

Stuffing her phone into her back pocket, Allura tries to push herself up. In her struggle to remove herself from the couch, she elbows the back of the person next to her, not bothering at all to be gentle. Too engaged with their current activities, however, neither girl spares her an ounce of attention as they reposition themselves to fill the space Allura has just vacated.

Unfortunately, the only way to the door is through the hallway that passes the kitchen. Trying her hardest to ignore the fourth year, she slings her pink crossbody bag over her shoulder and makes her way towards the exit. Despite her best efforts, she still feels the heat of his gaze on her long legs as she walks by, making her wish she hadn’t chosen to wear shorts.

_Ugh. Men._

Allura widens her strides and makes it to the door before any incident can happen. Pulling down on the handle, she pushes it open and steps out into the crisp, autumn air.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Much better.

Allura shuts the door behind her and digs around for her keys as she walks down the steps of the porch, trying to put as much distance between her and the fourth year as she can.

Just as her hands are closing around the trusty plastic of her Lexus, a voice calls out in the dark.

“Hey, did you drive here?”

Allura freezes. Her next instinct is to run. Her car is parked just a block down on frat row and she’s got long legs — she can make it. Besides, she’s got a tiny bottle of pepper spray in her bag if worse comes to worse.

She’s about to take the first step off the lawn when she hears a rolling of wheels, a thump of a body collapsing on the porch, and the scraping of wood of someone scrambling back up.

“Wait — please.”

Shutting her eyes, Allura braces herself before turning around to face the speaker.

When she opens them, she sees a tall, lanky boy about her age in a blue, long-sleeved shirt and jeans. His short, brown hair is disheveled from God-knows-what and he’s clinging to a wooden column of the porch staring down at her with a lazy grin on his face.

Definitely drunk.

“Can I help you?” she asks, her voice polite. He’s wasted and staring at her way too intently, but he’s also an innocent stranger who looks like he needs some genuine assistance. Allura’s gaze shifts from him to a skateboard at his feet before coming to rest upon a chair lying on its side behind him.

The previous raucous suddenly makes sense.

“Er, have you been sitting there the whole time?”

“Mmhmm,” he nods, without shame. Did she just miss him when she walked by? “Well… I was. But now I’m not.”

“Yes, I can see that,” she notes, gesturing with a tilt of her head towards the fallen chair. “Are you alright?”

“Uh… I think so?” he says, screwing his face up in thought. His expression shifts into deep concern as he looks back at her. “Why? Do you think I’m not?”

Taking in the state of his sobriety, her first inclination is to say, _No, I really don't think you're alright._ Instead, she decides on, “No, you seem okay.”

“Oh, good,” he sighs in relief. His arm begins to slide down the wooden column but he catches himself — it’s amazing that he’s still standing, really. With a frown, he asks, “Why do you have an English accent?”

“Um, I’m from there. Sort of,” she replies.

“Oh. Well, it sounds really lovely.”

“Thank you,” she says quietly. It’s not by any means the first time someone at this school has complimented her accent. If anything, she’s starting to dislike how it feels for it to be pointed out every so often. For her, it’s just normal speech.

Her finger strokes the plastic car key in her purse as she tries to think of the best way to end this conversation.

“Well, if you don’t need my assistance, I’d best be on my way.”

Pulling her keys out, she turns and starts walking when the guy’s voice stops her again.

“Wait!”

She pauses. “Yes?”

“If you’re leaving now, could I get a ride?”

Inwardly, Allura groans. The last thing she wants after being ditched by her friends is to get roped into a situation with a stranger she can’t get rid of.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” she says, still facing forward. “I’ve got to get home soon or my uncle will worry.”

“You live with your uncle?”

“Yes, and he’s going to to be upset if I stay out any longer.”

It’s a downright lie. Coran has always been fairly flexible with what she does with her time, encouraging her to get involved in several school activities, including parties. But at this point, she’ll give any excuse to end her disappointing night as soon as possible.

“Please, pretty lady?” he implores. “You wouldn’t let some drunk guy walk home alone at night, would ya? That’d be cold, and you’re not cold. I can tell.”

“ _Can_ you?” she asks in a bemused tone, her head turning towards him. “Well, I suppose you’re in for a surprise then.”

She breaks eye contact and keeps walking.

“Pleeeeeease?” he tries again. “My apartment isn’t that far and my ride ditched me like an hour ago. I don’t know what else to do.”

Allura stops walking again. At the word “ditched,” Nyma’s winking face and promise of _Stop worrying, Allura, we’ll be back before midnight_ crosses her mind, along with Shiro’s reassurance that _Everything’s going to be fine_. Reaching back, she pulls out her phone from her back pocket. It’s been quiet this entire time despite her barrage of texts to Shiro. She presses the home button.

No new messages.

She bites her lip. As someone who knows exactly how it feels to be ditched, it really would be cold to leave the guy stranded.

Sighing, she turns around to face him.

“Alright, then,” she says, praying she won’t regret this. “Come along.”

His face lights up at once. Allura feels a sudden warmth fill her chest at the sight of it. His excitement, even at such a small, simple thing, is just so… tangible, infectious.

_Strange._

Pushing away from the column, he grabs the skateboard at his feet and tramples down the porch steps, moving (by Allura’s judgement) way too fast for his drunk motor functions to react.

“Watch out, don’t—”

But too late. When his foot reaches the last step, it slips on the edge. Arms flailing, he flies forward with a loud _Shit!_ as his skateboard falls out of his hands.

Rushing up to him, Allura catches him by the shoulders; the smell of beer and whiskey fills her nose.

“Careful,” she chides, as she pushes them both up into a standing position. He doesn’t seem to want to stand however, choosing instead to shift all of his sagging weight onto her. “Please. You need to stand up.”

The guy blinks up at her, his eyes unfocused, and her breath catches in her throat. Up close, she takes in his features more thoroughly — the steep slope of his nose, his messy brown hair, his eyes a brilliant shade of cerulean…

His pupils shift more and more into focus with each blink as he stares up at her, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. If he weren’t so drunk, she might have actually found him attractive.

“Whoa,” he breathes as a smirk spreads across his face. “Are you from outer space because your beautiful face is _out of this world._ ”

… or maybe she spoke too soon.

“Blech.” Scrunching her nose up in disgust, Allura leans back away from him. Unfortunately, with his arms still draped over her shoulders, she has a hard time extricating herself from his hold.

“Your ears are weird though,” he adds, causing said appendage to burn beneath her hair.

“ _E-excuse_ me?”

She glares at him, fuming. So her ears are a little pointier than the average human. It isn’t her fault she was born with it. Most people don’t feel a need to comment on them. This guy, regrettably, isn’t most people.

“So, anyway,” he continues, his voice a low drawl. “The name’s Lance.”

“Ugh, get up!” she snaps, elbowing him in the ribs and forcing him to stand up straight. “Need I remind you that you are asking _me_ to give _you_ a ride back?”

“Oh, you can give _my_ back a ride any day,” he winks.

With a loud groan, Allura pushes him away.

“Forget it. Just walk home by yourself. This was a complete waste of my time.”

“Wait! No!” he calls out after her as she starts walking. “Don’t leave me alone in the dark! I’m sorry!”

Allura quickens her pace but Lance follows, his footsteps heavy as he trudges along behind her.

“Stop following me!” she demands, whipping around to face him. He flails and nearly falls over again before swaying slowly back into an upright position. “I’m very sorry to hear that your friend ditched you but you’re going to have to find your own ride.”

“Okayokay, I was being stupid, and ’m sorry,” he insists. “It won’t happen again. I’ll keep my mouth shut on the ride home. Cross my heart.”

“How are you even still talking?” Allura raises a brow. Lance’s speech is slurred — to the point where she can hardly understand him —  but he still manages to get his words across.

“It’s all part of the package,” he swaggers. “You know, good looks, smooth talk, the works. It’s a surprise you haven’t—”

He cuts off when he sees the look on her face.

“Right, keeping my mouth shut,” he says, bringing his thumb and index finger up to seal his lips like an imaginary zipper. Unable to speak, he reverts to blinking at her with wide, pleading eyes.

Allura covers her face with her hand, a frustrated scream threatening to escape her throat.

_Breath in through the mouth, then out through the nose._

Despite his flirty manner, he truly does look apologetic, hanging back so as to keep a comfortable distance away from her. And on top of it all, his friend abandoned his drunk self. She supposes she ought to show a bit of charity.

Allura throws him a pitying look before conceding.

“Alright. Fine. My car’s this way.”

Lance grins.

“After you, miss,” he gestures ahead. Rolling her eyes, she continues down the sidewalk towards her car.

“What’s your name by the way?” he asks after a few moments. “Sorry, last question before I zip it.”

“Allura,” she replies. Then, with a skeptical quirk of a brow: “Are you even going to remember it in the morning?”

“I don’t think I could forget a girl like you,” he says. And it sounds genuine; no pretense — just a real, earnest compliment.

Allura turns her head away, feeling shy all of a sudden. Lance doesn’t seem to notice.

“You shouldn’t speak in hyperboles when you’re drunk,” she mutters, her cheeks reddening.

“Hyperba-what?” he slurs.

“Never mind,” she says as they approach her car. “This is me.”

With a beep, she unlocks the car with a click, coming to a halt in front of the driver’s side.

“Oh, wait, I forgot to ask—” his eyes widen in concern. “It’s okay if Blue comes onboard right?”

“Who?” she asks. Does he have another friend who needs a lift? Or does he have a living creature — a rat or a disgusting bug — in his pocket?

In response, he holds up his skateboard. “This is Blue.”

She feels herself deflate. “Oh, that’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I-unno,” he shrugs.

“Just get in the car before I change my mind,” she threatens, opening the door to the front seat. Slipping her purse off her shoulder, she tosses it behind the gear lever in the empty cup holder and slides into the driver’s seat. A soft _clunk_ tells her that Lance has opened his side of the door.

Looking up to make sure his drunk self can manage the maneuver into the passenger’s seat, Allura is therefore confused when she sees that he’s pulled open, not the passenger door, but the one in the back.

“What are you doing?” she asks, eyeing him shrewdly.

Dipping his head in beneath the hood, he places the skateboard in the backseat with the same care a mother would give to her firstborn when putting a child to sleep.

“Shhh,” he puts a finger to his lip and gives her an accusatory look as though she’s done something offensive. “You’re gonna wake her.”

A smile tugs at the corner of her lips; she doesn’t know whether to laugh or to tell him to knock it off. And even more surprising, she doesn’t know if she wants him to. His ridiculousness is more endearing than she’d like to admit.

She mouths a silent _I’m sorry_ to him then brings a hand to her lips to stifle her giggle. After fitting his skateboard into the seat, Lance pulls the seat belt strap down over this treasured possession and buckles it in with a click.

“Is that really necessary?” she whispers, bemused.

“Uh, totally,” he whispers back, as though securing one’s skateboard with a seat belt was the most commonplace thing in the world.

After shutting the back door, he pulls open the passenger side and plops himself down in the seat. Allura starts the engine and turns to face him.

“So which way do I go?” she asks.

“Uhhhh…” Lance narrows his eyes blearily out the window, squinting into the darkness. “Just go straight. And then a right.”

With a nod, she shifts the gear into drive and pulls out into the lane. At the stop sign, she makes a right turn onto the main street.

Tonight is one of the first colder nights they’ve had in awhile. Since it had been fairly warm in the afternoon, the humidity from the day has now moistened into a thin veil of fog, covering the whole town in layers of mist. As she drives down this particularly long and winding road, Lance hums to himself and drums his fingers on the dashboard. Something about it calms her.

When she reaches the end of the first stoplight, she turns to him again.

“So do I keep going straight or turn here?”

She’s in the right lane, and it just occurs to her that maybe she ought to have asked him earlier, in case it’s supposed to be a left turn.

“I think it’s a… right? Wait, no.”

Lance squints at the street sign as the crosslights turn yellow.

“I need to know _now_ ,” she warns. She’s driven these roads so often she can count the seconds it takes for their light to turn green. Lance, however, frowns as whatever confidence he has quickly trickles away. A sense of foreboding spreads inside her chest.

He’s lost.

“I… I’m sorry. Maybe it’s the fog? But I can’t…” he scratches his chin as he tries to make out their surroundings through the windows. “Where are we again?”

The light turns green but since no cars are behind them, she decides to give him a little more time to figure it out.

“We’re on Park Avenue right now,” she reminds him. “At the intersection of Park and Arus, to be exact.”

“Right, right, right,” he says with an ease that Allura does not feel at all. “I think it’s a left turn here.”

Sighing, Allura turns right and gets into the left lane so she can make a U-turn at the island just down the street. Once she completes the U-turn, she prompts Lance for directions again.

“Okay, what’s next?”

“Umm…hmmm.”

She peeks out at him from the corner of her eyes. His face is screwed up in concentration — or what little concentration he can gather in such an inebriated state — but even after she’s slowed her speed, he still can’t give a ready response.

“I don’t… know.”

“Are you telling me you can’t remember how to get back to your own apartment?” she demands. Her tone is scolding, she knows, but she can’t help it. After all this trouble and nuisance of convincing her to give him a ride, it’s infuriating to discover that he doesn’t even know how to get home.

“Ow,” he winces, a finger twisting in his ear. “Your voice is so shrill, my head is already—”

“How do you not know how to get back home?!” she snaps. She would feel sorry for yelling at his drunk brain if he hadn’t roped her into this mess.

“I’m — I’m sorry!” he throws his hands up helplessly. “I just. My brain hurts, it’s the start of a new year, and I only moved into this place like a week ago!”

“Well you should have thought of that before you asked me for a lift,” she seethes.

“I — I didn’t know! I usually don’t think that far ahead,” he moans, slumping low in his seat.

A few meters before the next red light, Allura pulls off to the side of the curb and takes a deep breath.

“Do you at least know which apartment community you’re in?” she asks slowly, trying to keep her voice level despite the irritation coursing through her veins. “Or maybe apartment number?”

“Um, I think my address is like… nine two six—no, wait. Nine _six_ two — wait,” he kneads his forehead with the palm of his hands. “I give up. I don’t remember right now. There’s too much jumbled around in here.”

“What about apartment community?”

“Uh, I live in Balmera Court,” he supplies.

Allura sighs and drops her head onto her steering wheel. Balmera Court is the largest apartment community around Altea University and she does _not_ feel like navigating through there at this hour in the fog.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he pleads, and he sounds like he really means it. Her anger softens a little when she hears the remorse in his voice. “If you want to just chuck me out here on the sidewalk and leave, go ahead. I’ll understand.”

If she’s honest with herself, that would be the appealing thing to do: leave him here and go her merry way. The right thing to do would be to drive around the various apartment complexes until he finally recognizes his place. Something she knows she doesn’t have the patience for.

Lifting her head, she rests her chin on the wheel and weighs both options.

If she leaves him here, she would inevitably fall into eternal guilt the day _Altea Chronicles_ releases an article about how a poor student died on Arus Road from hypothermia. If she drives around Balmera, it would mean sacrificing time, sleep, and sanity to make sure nobody dies on this trip.

Ultimately, neither would yield a satisfying outcome — although admittedly, the second one would have less long-term consequences.

Still, it’s a toss up.

“If you’re gonna kick me out, can you just do it now? Get it over with?”

But even as he asks this, a third option crosses her mind. It’s not a fun idea by any means, but it’s better than the other two she has right now.

“Lance, it’s okay,” she says, placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. “I can’t believe I’m offering this but, if you’d like, you are welcome to stay at my place for the night. That way, when you’re — er — more sober, you can find your way back home in the morning.”

He turns to face her, his eyes widening.

“You serious?” There’s gratitude and relief in his expression; despite herself, Allura feels a warmth spreading inside her. Is this what Shiro means when he says he gets a special feeling from helping others out of the selflessness of his heart?

She’s not entirely convinced it’s a feeling she wants to have all the time if it means there’s always sacrifice involved, but for now, right here in her car, she’s content with her decision.

Nodding, she tells him, “I am. I’ve got a couch. It’s quite comfortable too.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much,” he says, relaxing in his seat. “You’re a lifesaver. I owe you a big one.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she mutters, shifting her gear back into drive.

It only takes about five minutes to get back to her house by car but by the time she pulls up onto the driveway, she turns to see that Lance has already fallen asleep.

Once she kills the engine, she unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out of the car first. Coming around to his side, she opens the door and undoes his next.

“Lance,” she says, shaking him a bit. “We’re here.”

“Hu-buh-shm-ah-buh-shh,” he mumbles incoherently. She figures it’s a lost cause. Nobody that drunk reemerges from sleep that easily without the danger of tearing their consciousness apart.

“Alright, let’s go,” she says as she wraps one of his arms around her shoulder and pulls him out of the car.

“Hnnh,” he murmurs into her collarbone. His warm breath sends prickly tingles up her neck. Stepping away from her car, she kicks the door shut with her foot and tries to steady them both on the pavement.

It’s clear he’s in no state to walk. His feet are curled and dragging on the ground, supporting none of his weight. Luckily for the both of them, Allura frequents the gym quite often, so with little to no effort, she pulls on his arm until he’s completely draped over her back.

Lance smacks his lips next to her ear before more incoherent noises escape his throat, as though he’s actually trying to say something. Ignoring it, she walks on towards her house.

“Th-thanks,” he manages to utter by the time they’re on her doorstep.

Allura can’t help but smile.

— * —

_Good morning, Coran. A friend from school got so drunk he couldn’t remember how to get home last night, so don’t be alarmed when you see him sleeping on our couch. — Allura_

— * —

When Allura wakes in the morning, the sun is nearly half up. Eyes creaking open, she gropes around for her phone. If she had to hazard a guess, she’d say it’s just past 11, meaning she’s gotten seven hours of sleep.

 _11:44._ Close enough.

A few notifications show up beneath the time: snaps from different friends who were at different events, a text from Coran informing her that he had gone to get some groceries, and a calendar reminder to have lunch with Shiro today at 12 o'clock.

_Shit._

Allura sits up at once. Pulling her hair back away from her face, she closes her eyes and thinks. It takes about fifteen minutes to get to campus by bus and about twenty minutes for her to get ready. She’ll be a little late, but she can do this.

She breathes out. Better send him a warning.

When she opens up the message app and skips over the newest texts, however, she sees Shiro’s name without a notification dot next to it. Expecting the worst, she taps it.

Sure enough, when his chat comes up, her eyes fix upon the word “Delivered” still hanging below the last bubble.

There’s no doubt about it now. Keith had definitely shown up to the party last night.

With a hard roll of her eyes, Allura considers sending him the middle finger emoji before deciding it would be far more satisfying to do it in person.

 

_[11:46am]: so are we still on for lunch or should I assume you’re with Keith?_

 

She feels a vindictive sort of pleasure as the text makes it through to “Delivered.” Unable to suppress a smirk, she tosses her phone to the side before suddenly remembering she’s still got a situation to deal with.

Lance.

She should probably check up on him.

Throwing the covers off her legs, she jumps out of bed, puts a bra on, and make her way downstairs.

When she arrives in the living room with a bottle of Gatorade, Lance is still knocked out. Despite being such an annoying flirt who forgot where he lived, she has to give it to him: he looks cute when he’s asleep. With his mouth slightly parted and one arm resting over his head, subconsciously shielding his eyes from the brightness of the living room, Lance looks like the epitome of peace.

One of his legs is dangling off the couch, his toes tickling the carpet. Allura smirks. Standing up is going to be fun for him today.

Reaching out an arm, she grips one of his knees and shakes him.

“Lance? Are you okay? It’s almost twelve.”

No response.

She shakes him harder.

“Lance! Wake up!”

Still nothing.

Allura groans. She would really like to have him off her hands before half the day is over but clearly, that’s not happening. Moving around to sit on the couch, she plops herself down at his left foot and shakes him harder by the leg.

“Lance!”

She grabs the wrist covering his forehead and removes it in the hopes that the sunlight will force his eyes open. Instead, his arm simply falls like a log over his chest. Keeping her hand on his wrist, she shakes him once more.

“Lance, please wake up, we _need_ to get you home.”

As a last resort, and as an extension of her own annoyance, she places a foot at his hip and shoves him off the couch.

His body hits the ground before he yelps.

“Whoa! Whuzz-going-on? Where-am-I?”

“Morning,” she greets dully as he scrambles back up into a seated position. Lance shuts his eyes tight and winces.

“Ow, fuck, it’s bright!”

“Take it slow, you’re going to be fine,” she says, trying not to laugh.

“Wait,” he mutters, his anguished expression relaxing into a curious one. His eyes are still closed when he continues, “Your voice sounds hot. Is this a trick?” He frowns. “I don’t like tricks.”

“Do you even remember anything from last night?” she asks, giving him a pitying look.

Lance brings his hands up to rub his eyes. Slowly and with caution, he opens them and blinks up at Allura.

“Whoa,” he breathes. Eyeing the couch, he adds, “Did I spend the night here?”

“So you don’t remember,” she observes, crossing her legs and looking down at him in amusement.

“I don’t _think_ so?” he replies, massaging his temple. “But…”

Lips curving into a smirk, he flashes her a roguish grin. “I’m starting to wish I did.”

Allura blinks and drops her smile as his last words sink in. Feeling her cheeks burn, she grabs a pillow from the couch and lobs it at his head.

“Nothing happened, you idiot!” she shouts. “I slept in my own room and you were here on this couch!”

“Ow, okay! Go easy on me! I’m not even 100% sober yet!” he exclaims, throwing his arms in front of his face. “I was just joking! …mostly.”

He peeks out from behind his arms. “I mean, are you sure nothing… nothing at all—?”

 _“Yes!”_ she says, grabbing another pillow and holding it threateningly over her head. Lance hides his face behind his arms at once. “I was completely sober and had my wits about me thank you very much!”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” he yells. “You’d never in your right mind sleep with me. Duly noted.”

“You ought to think twice before you open your mouth,” she says, lowering the pillow. “Especially considering how I extended my hospitality to you last night when you couldn’t remember how to get home.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he repeats, looking away from her. “I’m just — ugh — feeling really hungover and don't know how to react when I wake up in the presence of someone so beautiful, okay?”

Allura’s heart skips a beat; her breath hitches. She doesn’t know what to do with such an honest and genuine admission. In spite of his occasional crass behavior, she can’t help the flutters in her chest every time he offers up a moment of raw, effortless vulnerability.

“Just — react like that,” she tells him, setting the pillow aside. “Just… as you were.”

Lance lowers his arms and stares up at her, his eyes droopy and his lips upturned. Crass or not, she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t find his uncertain but concerned look a little bit charming.

As her words register in his ears, a small smile spreads across his face, one that makes him look like he’s just learned an exciting and significant secret.

Alright, a _lot_ charming.

“Um, anyways,” she clears her throat before looking away and thrusting the Gatorade in front of his face. “If you remember how to get home now that you’re, er, considerably more sober, give me a few minutes to wash up and then I’ll give you a lift.”

He takes the bottle from her. Setting both feet back on the carpet, she pushes herself off the couch and heads towards the stairs.

“Sure thing, Allura,” he says. She whips around.

“You _do_ remember last night, then?”

“Just a little bit in small waves, here and there,” he replies with a wink. “Told ya I wouldn’t forget a girl like you.”

Allura’s face heats up before she turns around and runs back up the stairs.

— * —

Once she’s brushed her teeth and changed into presentable Saturday afternoon clothes — a pale, yellow sundress because the weather hasn’t dipped that low yet and she’s too lazy to wear pants — she makes her way back downstairs with her crossbody purse in tow. When she reaches the couch, she realizes that Lance is no longer in the living room.

“Lance?” she calls out, walking over to check the guest bathroom.

“Where’s the bin for recycling?” she hears him ask from the kitchen. Turning back around in the hallway, she heads towards his voice and leans against the doorway.

Lance is standing in the middle, looking around at all the cabinets and corners, his empty bottle of Gatorade in his hands.

“Oh, it’s here,” she says, walking up to him. She grabs the bottle out of his hands and approaches the sink. Opening the cabinet just below it, she tosses it in the designated bin and straightens up to face him. “Ready to go?”

“Yup,” he says brightly.

… _Too_ brightly.

“What?” he asks, innocent as ever, as Allura narrows her eyes at him in suspicion. Nobody wakes up from a hangover and looks this happy within the first thirty minutes.

“Just get in the car,” she says as she turns and leads the way out.

Seatbelts buckled and Lance’s skateboard still secure in the backseat, Allura reverses out of her driveway and heads down the street.

“So let’s try this again,” she says. “Which way do I turn?”

“Turn right out of Lion Drive, then make a left on Sixth,” he instructs.

“You’re sure this time?”

“Don’t worry, girl,” he reassures with a casual wave of his hand. “I’ve got this.”

Raising an eyebrow, she makes a right turn out of her street. “We’ll see about that.”

“So what’re your plans today?” he asks, leaning back and crossing his arms over his head. “First Saturday of the school year, no homework yet and all.”

At first, she considers cutting the conversations short with minimal responses, seeing as how she probably won’t ever see him again aside from random run-ins on campus, but at Lance’s question, the thought of how Shiro may have flaked on her both last night and for lunch today crops up again in her mind.

“Well,” she begins, not bothering to mask the pettiness in her tone. “I was _supposed_ to have lunch with a good friend about now, but said friend most likely ditched me last night to chase after this guy he’s been into for the last year, so I don’t think he’ll make it out today.”

 _“Yikes,”_ Lance replies, and she can tell without looking that he’s suppressing a laugh. “Terrible bro code. Bet that guy he went for isn’t even that cool.”

“Mm, he’s alright,” Allura tells him, because it’d be unfair to Keith to lie about that. “I just wish he had given me some warning at least.”

“Turn left at the end of that second light over there,” Lance says, pointing ahead. “I know what you mean. My friend Hunk, who I thought would _never ever_ ditch me, drove home with his girlfriend last night even though — wait… Wait. Now that I think about it, I totally insisted that he leave with her. Damn. I can’t believe he did that. I can’t believe _I_ did that. Nice going, bro.”

Allura rolls her eyes as he pats himself on the back.

“Are you telling me you lied to me last night when you said your ride ditched you?” she asks.

“It wasn’t a lie! I just forgot — well… in a sense. I told you the truth according to what I was feeling at the time,” he says confidently.

“Unbelieveable,” she shakes her head with a smile.

“Okay, make another left there, and then a right on the street right after,” he tells her after the third light they pass. Allura does as she’s told and is starting to figure out what apartment community they’re heading towards.

“Wait, I thought you said you lived in Balmera Court,” she says as they drive down the path towards Daibazaal.

“Did I?” he asks, looking surprised. “Wow, I must’ve been _really_ drunk.”

“Figures,” she grumbles, driving on.

“Pull up over there,” he points down a few blocks. Her eyes light up upon seeing a familiar landmark on their right.

“No way,” she says, impressed, as her car pulls over to the side of the curb. “You live on the side of Daibazaal closest to Voltron Cafe? That’s my favorite brunch place! I mean, I’m a little biased because my Father opened it but, all the same.”

“You can just stop in front of one of those meters” Lance suggests, gesturing towards a set of them lined up a little ways down between the cafe and the start of the apartment complexes.

The second Allura pulls up and shifts her gear into Park, she turns to Lance at once, her eyes bright.

“I’m so envious! You can walk to this place whenever you want to!” she exclaims. “Ever since my family had some issues with the housing manager of this community, it’s killed any chance of me ever living here during my college career. My uncle would never allow it.”

“Uh, yeah, so actually,” Lance begins, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning to her with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I don’t live here at all.”

“What? Then where do you—?”

“Balmera,” he answers cheekily with a grin.

“So why are we here?” she asks, glaring at him.

He shrugs. “I saw the restaurant’s business card on your fridge and figured it’d be a good place to take you out on a date.”

Allura opens her mouth, fully intending to protest because he has the _gall_ to suggest that _he_ was taking _her_ on a date when she’s the one giving him a lift, but before she can do so, he chuckles and says, “Consider it a token of my gratitude for letting me crash last night.”

“I — well, I—”

“So what do you say?”

She closes her mouth, contemplating. Turning her head, she steals a quick glance at his skateboard in the backseat, then turns her gaze back onto him. No matter which way she spins it, she really has to hand it to him: this was a smooth move.

“You have got to be the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met,” she says, a smile tugging at her lips. Leaning over towards him, she plants a swift kiss on his cheek and backs away, delighting in his shocked expression.

With a tinkering laugh, she kills the engine and opens her car door. Gathering a few coins from the coin slots in her cup holder, she raises an expectant eyebrow at him and nods towards the restaurant.

“Aren’t you coming?” she asks with a wink.

Despite all the trouble she went through to give him a ride, the adoring smile he gives her as he follows her out of the car is all it takes to make the whole trip worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone was curious, buckling the skateboard in the seatbelt part is a true story that happened to me when I gave this guy a ride home once back in college. We're still friends. :*)
> 
> Come say hello to me on tumblr [@flusteredkeith](https://flusteredkeith.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/flusteredkeith)!
> 
> If you liked this work, check out some of my other recent works!
> 
> [The Golden Calf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12095217): Plance oneshot where Pidge and Lance smuggle Kaltenecker out of the castle.
> 
> [tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11677323): Sheith, multichapter, Edge of Tomorrow AU (aka military sci-fi meets groundhog's day) - written for the Voltron Big Bang.
> 
> [once in a sunset](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11458449): a Plance oneshot where Lance comforts Pidge.
> 
> [the temperature's rising](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11422848): a short Sheith oneshot where Shiro and Keith get locked up in a closet after losing a drinking game.
> 
> [shop til your heart drops](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10943253): Kallura fic where Allura takes Keith to the mall in attempts to try and figure out what he wants for his birthday. Shenanigans and feelings ensue.


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